Secret Agent Jones!
by petricimus
Summary: AU. Alfred F. Jones is a secret agent of the united nations secret underground service (UNSUS), and together with his teammates, Gilbert and Mathias, he saves the day as a true hero! Rated T to be safe :)
1. Prolouge The Chase

**Hey everyone!**

**I got this idea the other day, and i couldn't let it go.**

**This is my very first anything, so be nice to me please.**

**I really hope you enjoy, and if you do, please tell me!**

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**_Prolouge; the chase_**

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It was a Friday night in the city. Signs where flashing, people where partying. It would have been like any other Friday night, if it wasn't for the five figures racing through the streets on their bikes, knocking over plenty of stuff in their way. The two in front, a big man wearing a scarf, and a much smaller, scary looking woman by his side, was obviously being chased by the three others, bullets flying through the air.

The persuaders was none other than secret agent 00 Jones and his team, a German self-proclaimed awesome albino known by the name Gilbert, and a blond Dane, Mathias, currently refusing to wear a helmet due to the fact that it would ruin his hairstyle.

"Khesesesese! Take this, commie bastards!" yelled the albino, firing several bullets at the Russians (and missing by far).

"Seriously Gil," laughed the Dane, "you shoot like you're drunk!"

"Who said I was sober!" the German yelled back, as one of his shots hit the woman's tire, sending her of the road. "I'll take her guys! Go after Ivan." He turned around, the two others right on the tail of their target.

Agent Alfred F. Jones grinned. Looked like they would finally set the head of the Russian mafia, Ivan Braginski, behind bars. Agent Jones, the hero off America, no, the hero of the world! He was so caught up in his own thoughts, that he didn't notice the little green object the Russian had just pulled from his pocket.

Luckily, Mathias had.

"Shit, Al, he's got a grenade!" he yelled, snapping the American out of his own thoughts just as the grenade hit, sending them both flying.

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Alfred was only out for a couple of seconds, but when he regained consciousness Braginski had got away, and the street was in ruins. The dust was still settling around him, revealing a still figure laying in the ruble. Alfred turned white as he recognized his comrade.

"Mathias!" he yelled, running to the figure on the ground. "MATHIAS!" He fell to his knees next to his friend.

"Dude, stop screaming, my fucking head hurts." The Dane muttered opening his eyes, "Where's fucking Ivan?"

"Lost him." Answered the American, giving out a relieved sigh. If the Dane was bright enough to swear, there couldn't be anything serious wrong with him. "I'm calling headquarters."

"Tell them to bring beer!" Mathias said, sitting up and holding a hand to his leg, that by the looks of it was broken.

Alfred nodded with a grin, pressing a button on his watch to reveal a small screen.

"Agent Jones to headquarters," he spoke, suddenly getting nervous, "Calling commander Kirkland."

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**So here you go.**

**I will return!**


	2. Chapter 1 :The commander

**Here you go, wonderfull people of the internet!**

**1st (real) Chapter!**

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"You idiot!" Arthur Kirkland yelled furiously, "Do you have any idea how bad you messed up this time you git?!"

Alfred didn't get a chance to answer, before his commander continued talking.

"Ivan Braginski is a dangerous man Jones, and you and your bloody little friends think that you can just walk into his bloody den and catch him? I swear Alfred, one of these days I am going to…"

Alfred didn't bother to listen to what the Brit was going to do to him. He was currently sitting in a comfortable chair in Arthur's office, as the angry man walked back and forth behind his desk. The walls where painted a bright minty color, and the interior was horrible if you asked Alfred (no one ever did though).

"…And you could have gotten somebody seriously hurt! What were you thinking! No wait, stupid question." Arthur started rubbing his temples.

Alfred began to wonder how much longer this scolding would take. He wanted to go visit Mathias and Gil in the hospital. Gilbert had earned himself some nasty cuts capturing Natalia (no wonder they called her the Russian tiger), and Mathias had hurt his leg in the explosion. Neither of them seemed to be discouraged though. He also really wanted to go eat a burger. Actually, forget the hospital, he just wanted a burger.

"…Going off on a mission destined to become a complete failure-"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Alfred interrupted, "It wasn't a _complete_ failure. We captured Natalia Braginski, the Russian tiger, the hottest babe in all of-"

"And immobilized two agents in the process!" Arthur yelled. He was starting to get a little red. "You know how bloody short we are on personnel!"

"Then I just have to be hero enough for both of them!" Alfred jumped up with a grin, and left the room. "See you later Artie!"

The Brit just stood still, too shocked by Alfred's stupidity to move. Then he snapped out of it.

"I told you not to bloody call me that, you bloody son of a burger king! Get your bloody arse back here so I can kick it!"

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"And then he was all like; oh Mathias my love, don't die, I can't live without your awesomeness!" Mathias teased, him and Gilbert laughing their asses off.

"Cut it out guys." Alfred begged, blushing. "I was just, you know, doing my job as a hero! A hero's got to protect the weak!"

His `friends´ ignored him completely, and started making kissing noises. Alfred was beginning to wonder why he even bothered to visit them, except for the fact that the hospital provided free food. He suddenly didn't feel guilty about going to the McDonalds' before heading here anymore.

"Calm down Al," laughed the albino. "I know that you would chose my awesomeness over his anytime!"

"That has nothing to do with it!" the American tried to defend himself.

"Yeah, everybody knows I'm the most awesome in this group!" the Dane stated.

"Am not!"

"I can drink more beer!"

"Is that a challenge?"

A nurse loudly clearing her throat, (sadly) interrupted the quickly escalating situation.

"You have a visitor."

The visitor walked in, and the trio paled. Not only had Arthur just entered the room, but he was smiling in a way that could only mean two things. Either homemade scones, or serious trouble.

"Oh, hello Alfred." Arthurs smile grew. "Good to see you here. I need to talk to the three of you."

_Oh shit_ Alfred thought, eyes darting around looking for an escape path. _I'm too young to die! _The two others were having very similar thoughts.

"The thing is," the Brit stated in a dangerous tone, "That after your little `stunt´ the other day, me and the council decided to put you three on a very… special mission."

There was a short pause. Then before Gilbert spoke.

"V-Vat kind of mission?" he asked.

"Well…" Arthur said. "Basically, you're going back to training."

He had barely uttered the words, before he was hit with a rain of objections.

"Dude!"

"Totally not awesome!"

"Not cool bro!"

The trio jumped to their feet, well except for Mathias, who tried, but fell to the ground because of his leg.

"Calm down!" Arthur yelled. "You're going there on a mission! An important Mission!"

The others stopped yelling, and glared suspiciously at their commander.

"Vat kind of mission?" Asked Gilbert again.

Arthur reached into his pocket, pulled out a picture, and handed it to the others. It depicted a young man. He was rather short, and had auburn hair, a little curl sticking out on the left. He looked happy, like nothing bad had ever happened to him.

"Hey assholes!" yelled Mathias, still on the floor. "Stop looking at pictures, and help me up dammit!"

The others hurried to his side. When he was safely back in his bed, Gilbert asked what they all had been wondering. "So, vat does zis guy have to do with our awesome mission?"

"He is one of our new recruits on the training program. Your mission is to protect him. Since the three of you could clearly use some extra training, we thought that we might as well kill two birds with one blow.

"Why in ze world would you kill ze birds?" Gilbert asked, a frightened look on his face. "That's so not awesome!"

"Why does he need protection?" Asked Mathias, completely ignoring the startled albino.

"He knows too much." Arthur answered. "He pulled out of the Italian mafia not long ago, and he witnessed against the Frenchfather in court."

"But if he used to be part of the mafia, why did you let him on the training program?" asked Alfred.

"Well, normally we wouldn't." answered the Brit. "But the leader of the program took full responsibility for him."

"And who exactly _is_ the leader of the program?" asked Gilbert, who, apparently, had recovered from the shock of Arthurs bird killings.

"Sergeant Ludwig Beilschmidt." Arthur answered. "You should know him quite well Gilbert."

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**Dun Dun Duuuun!**

**Hope that you liked it! And thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2 :The airheads

**Hey! Happy new year!**

**Sorry that this is a bit late, but i didn't have any time.**

**Enjoy (please)!**

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Ludwig Beilschmidt was currently sitting on a bench just outside the airbase, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. Not only was the training program being moved from the European base to the American one (because of the lack of personnel), but he also knew that at least two out of the five recruits on the program was complete airheads. Moreover, to make matters worse, one of the airheads was his brother. It wasn't like he didn't like Gilbert, because he did. He just found it difficult to be around him, not to mention actually _training_ him. And the Italian wasn't much better. Well, he _was_ easier to get along with, and he _did_ have certain qualities. He just wasn't exactly… soldier material.

"Captain?"

Ludwig looked up. The person talking was Kiku Honda, him and Feliciano Vargas being the new recruits going to America. Ludwig quite liked the man. He was a small Japanese guy with black hair, and he always followed orders. In addition, he didn't speak much, and he (in comparison to the airheads) actually had some good potential.

"The plane is getting ready sir." Kiku said, indicating the small machine that would transport them. "We should probably get on board sir."

Ludwig gave a nod and stood up. It really was a small plane, but of course, that couldn't be helped. They only were three people after all. Him, Honda and-

"Ve~! Ludwig! Kiku!" A happy looking man jumped out of the plane, and started waving enthusiastically. "Over heeeere!"

"V-Vargas-san." The Japanese said, startled by his comrades behavior. "You really shouldn't address captain Beilschmidt like that."

"Ve~ Ludwig doesn't mind, right Ludwig?"

Ludwig gave a sigh, and looked from the small plane that he would be spending the next couple of hours in, to the dumpkophf he would be spending them with. This was going to be a long trip.

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"NO FUCKING WAY!" Gilbert shouted furiously "The awesome me is NOT taking lessons from freaking _Ludwig_!"

"Calm down Gilbert, he can't be _that_ bad." Alfred said with a nervous laugh. If this `Ludwig´ guy could make _Gilbert _act like _this_…

"It's not that bad, it's _worse _than that bad!" Gilberts voice had risen to a shriek. He was walking around the hospital room, biting his fingernails and swearing like a sailor. "He's just so… so… UN-AWESOME!"

"Gilbert, that's not even a real word!"

"_SHUT UP!"_

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Ludwig shuddered. For a brief moment, he got the unpleasant feeling, that someone far away had just insulted him. But of course, that was just his imagination. He looked at the sleeping Feliciano in the seat next to him, and gave a small smile. After an hour of nonstop talking, the happy Italian had dozed off to the sound of the airplane. He looked serious in his sleep, and once in a while he would mumble some Italian words that Ludwig wouldn't understand. He didn't mind though. Actually, Ludwig thought that the serious face suited the Italian quite well, though he wondered what kind of dreams could bring that expression to the otherwise happy looking face. He couldn't understand how a guy like this could've gotten involved with shady types like the mafia or the Frenchfather. What could they possibly want from this guy?

"Captain?" Kiku asked, interrupting Ludwig's chain of thoughts. "Can I ask a question sir?"

"S-sure." Ludwig said, a bit surprised by Kiku's sudden talkativeness. The other man usually didn't speak unless he was asked a question.

The Japanese bit his lip and started gazing out the window. "Why did you bring him?" he asked hesitantly, and made a small wave at the sleeping Italian. "He's not exactly suited for… well, anything."

Ludwig gave a tired sigh. "Honestly, I don't know. I just… I just couldn't leave him to be dragged back into the mafia. Not when he's so desperate to escape that."

There was a short pause before Kiku answered.

"…I see." He said, and returned to staring out the window.

They both kept quiet for the rest of the flight, as the sun began to set in the horizon.

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Gilbert entered his apartment, and threw the keys at the little table in the small hallway. He had finally been released from the hospital after being stitched up (and after he stopped threatening to jump out the window, if Ludwig entered the country). Alfred had offered him a ride home, but he had declined awesomely. He wasn't in the mood for noisy company.

"Girlbird!" He shouted, as he made his way through the messy living room (why bother to clean up, it wasn't like he had a girlfriend or anything). He had to make his way around big piles of dirty clothes and trash. "Gilbird, I'm home!"

He reached the big birdcage in the corner of the room, where his yellow canary, Gilbird, seemed to be happy to see him. His little friend was flying around his cage, greeting Gilbert with little `piyo´ sounds.

"Khesesesese!" Gilbert laughed, and opened the cage to let Gilbird out. "You've missed me little guy?"

"Piyo!" the bird flew in a circle around Gilbert and settled on his head. Gilbert laughed and went out to grab a beer from the fridge. Then he made his way (through the mess) back to the couch, where he bumped down with a satisfied sigh.

"Guess what Gilbird?" Gilbert said, turning on the TV and flicking trough the channels, "My brother Ludwig is coming to town. You two haven't been introduced yet. If he touch any of my stuff you're allowed to pick on him."

"Piyo?"

"Ja, you can scratch him to."

"Piyo!"

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Mathias gave a frustrated sigh and closed his book. He simply could not concentrate on reading. He wasn't able to sleep either. Moreover, without Gilbert and Alfred to entertain him, the room seemed awfully empty and dark. The clock on the bedside table flashed and shifted to 1 a.m. Mathias _really_ needed to get some sleep soon. Kirkland had _insisted_ that he would have to show up to training tomorrow, so he had to be bright and ready. Breaking a leg apparently didn't count as an excuse to stay home. Mathias made a tired sound at the thought, and turned over.

`Clonk´

The small sound made Mathias jump, and abruptly pulled him out of his self-pity. He had forgotten all about the book that had been lying in his lab and it had fallen to the ground. It had landed open on the very first page, where the dedication was written in a neat handwriting. Mathias picked up the book and reread the words that he had already memorized.

_Dear Idiot_

_I wanted to give you this, even though I doubt you know how to read._

_At least it'll keep you entertained on the plane._

_Make sure you don't die in some random bar in America will you?_

_I don't really care if you want to write me a letter or something, so my address's written in the back._

_Lykke til I Amerika_

_Lukas _

Mathias smiled. He had gotten the book when he was 15, on the day before his family moved to America. It was a collection of Danish fairy tales by H. C. Andersen. When he woke up and went to get the paper, it was lying on his doorstep. Lukas hadn't come to say goodbye, and Mathias had been quite angry at him. At first he had thought that it was a weird present, and he hadn't even opened the book for a couple of months, but now, it had grown to be one of his most treasured items. He had written many letters to that address over the years, even when the answers stopped coming. And he hadn't died in some random bar. Not yet at least.

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_Lykke til i Amerika = _Good luck in America** in Norwegian.**

**There wasn't that much Alfred or Arthur in this chapter, but i hope it worked.**

**And if any of the characters are ooc, i'm soory, but it's the first time i'm writing all of them. :)**


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